


Since I've Bean Loving You

by peppypear



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Cooking, Coffee Shops, Fluff, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppypear/pseuds/peppypear
Summary: It all started when Tony stumbled into the wrong coffeeshop and into a humongous crush on the cute blond barista. You know how this story goes.The only problem? Steve really, really sucks at making coffee.--Written for the 2018 SteveTony Secret Santa





	Since I've Bean Loving You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dophne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dophne/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to [Dophne ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dophne) (@queendophne) for the @stevetonysecretsanta ! As requested, it’s full of fluffy pining and with a happy ending! Hope you enjoy reading! 🎅

1

Tony’s eyes snapped up from his phone, realising within milliseconds that he’d walked into the wrong coffeeshop. 

_ Sam’s,  _ was the name on the wall-mounted menu, with a simple logo consisting of star and wings. The interior design was bare-bones as it could get: unpainted concrete walls, exposed HVAC vents twining their way around track lights, hardwood tables paired with mismatched chairs and sofas with the comfortable sort of squishiness that only came from years of use. The radio was on, blasting bluesy rock around the compact space. The only splashes of color came from the art arrayed on the walls - americana-inspired pop art, and watercolors of various New York landmarks.

As Tony recalled, this place had opened a few weeks ago without making much of a splash, which certainly didn’t bode well.

With an irritated click of his tongue, Tony checked his time. Yeah, he was late, grumpy from another late night of tinkering, slightly ashamed because he’d promised Pepper he’d be punctual this time, and he needed his morning caffeine right now. 

Looked like he had no other choice. Grumpily, Tony stomped up to the counter and barked out his order. “Americano.”

“Are you sure? Our seasonal special is a pumpkin spice hot chocolate-”

“Americano.” Tony repeated impatiently, not looking up from his phone. “Don't give me that hipster shit.”

A cup appeared on the counter. Tony snatched it, took a sip, and almost immediately choked it out. “What the f-?”

It became clear why there had been little to no buzz about the coffeeshop, because it was the most disgusting cup of coffee Tony had ever tasted. Chemical waste would have been milder than the rancid cup of liquid death he had just drunk. 

“Is this some kind of-” Tony snapped, ready to give the idiot barista a piece of his mind. But the second he locked eyes with the guy behind the counter, Tony immediately forgot how to English.

The guy was as American apple-pie as a person could get, all blond hair and blue eyes, though with surprisingly delicate pink lips. He looked built, but not in an over-sculpted gym bunny kind of way; those muscled arms looked like they were capable of ripping logs in half like styrofoam. He was wearing a dark blue apron over a basic white tee-shirt, the sleeves of which were  _ very _ nicely filled out by those breathtaking biceps.

‘Steve’ said his nametag.

“Too strong for ya?” Steve’s blue gaze met Tony’s defiantly, practically inviting him to make a fuss. “ _ Sir.” _

Tony gaped back like a fish. He fumbled around for an answer. “I've been drinking coffee since before you were in diapers.”

“Sure, tough guy.” Steve’s lips curved into a smirk. “How about a hot chocolate instead?”

Steve’s brashness only made him all the more hotter, and it sent a rush of heat straight to Tony’s groin. Tony had always had a thing for feistiness,a nice rack, and blonds. It was as if the forces of attraction had taken everything he liked and put it right in front of him in one extremely-shredded package. 

_ Ooh yeah, package... _ Tony’s eyes took a quick dart downwards, but the counter in between them obscured any view of Steve below the waist. Damn. But maybe, just maybe, if Tony played his cards right, he'd be able to get under that apron with only minimal embarrassment.

Because Steve was too good to be true. Tony was not gonna let himself mess things up this time.

Tony met those summer-blue eyes again and forced himself chug the entire cup, just to prove he could. All the hair on his arms stood up, and his tastebuds let out dying protests, but he forced himself to swallow it all, slamming the empty cup on the counter with a grunt of victory.

He was rewarded to see surprise bloom in those blue eyes. Tony quickly made an exit before he could do something stupid, like proposition Steve McHottieson in the middle of his shift. Or throw up all over the guy’s apron, which seemed more likely, if the sudden roiling in Tony’s stomach was any indication. Whatever. Neither option would go over well.

God, that coffee was absolutely disgusting.

Despite the bitter taste on his slightly-burned lips, Tony knew one thing for sure: he had to see Steve again.

\--

10

“Are you insane, Tones?” Rhodey took a sip of coffee, gagged, and spat it out into the nearest potted plant in Tony’s office. “Pretty sure this stuff could power space shuttles, and as someone who's had the misfortune of venturing into your lab when you're drunk, I actually know what jet fluid tastes like…”

“You don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it,” Tony responded petulantly, chin resting on his hands. “Steve made it for me.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Sounds like a real dream boat if you’ve been torturing yourself on multiple occasions. How many days have you gone there now?”

“A week, but that’s not the point. You don't get it, Rhodey-bear. He was….” Tony gazed out the lofty windows of his office at the New York skyline. He wondered what Steve was doing at this moment: how many cups of coffee had he made today? What time did he end his shift? 

“You ever get this feeling that… you just know.”

Rhodey gave him an unimpressed look.

“Look, when you know, you know, okay?” Tony had dated lots of hot people before, but there was something about Steve that sent his blood racing in all the best ways. Not just because of his amazing body or even the sarcastic little grin that made Tony want to do  _ things _ , to see how that smug smile would look when alight with passion or softened in pleasure...  

Sighing, Rhodey slumped back in his chair. “Since you seem so taken by the guy, just go for it. When are you gonna ask him out?”

Tony scoffed, and swiped the coffee out of Rhodey’s slack grip. “Don't be ridiculous, honeybunch, that would be too obvious. I have a reputation to maintain.”

If Tony’s years of experience  hoeing around sweeping people off their feet taught him one thing, it was that people like Steve were hiding a secret pain. The awful coffee was just a smokescreen, because all Steve really wanted was for someone to break through his barriers, to be there and never go away. To be the person who could accept him for who he was, flaws and all.

Tony planned on being that person. 

“This is a test. He's testing me.”

“You really think that?” 

“I am a certified genius.”

“A fact you never cease to remind me of.” Rhodey blew out a sigh. “Well, I sure hope you know what you're doing.”

“When do I not?”

“Maybe it’s just me, but giving yourself stomach cancer might not be the best dating strategy,” Rhodey said dryly, as Tony took another painful sip of Steve’s coffee.

Tony ignored him. The best things in life never came easy, none more so than love.

Armed with an arsenal of well-used pickup lines and his trademark charm, Tony had no doubt that Steve would be falling into his arms within a month. Failing that… well, Tony was known for being a stubborn son of a bitch.

\--

30

After a month and 36 more cups of Steve’s awful brew, Tony was starting to wonder if he'd read the whole situation wrong. Not only was Steve oblivious to flirting, he seemed to save all his abrasiveness for Tony.

Not that Tony minded - the sarcasm was hot as fuck - but every time he saw Steve interacting with other regulars, it would be with a warmer, friendlier demeanor, and Tony was stumped for ideas on how to earn some of that affability for himself

Maybe Steve couldn't stand him. Maybe the coffee was his way of trying to poison Tony so he could be left in peace.

_ Can’t say I blame the guy, I know I can be a bit much sometimes… scratch that. I’m too much all the time.  _ Tony thought morosely, as he sat at his usual table. 

He’d taken to coming into Sam’s on weekends to ‘catch up on work’, but most of those hours were spent watching Steve. Besides, it was far easier to down Steve’s coffee if he spread it over one long afternoon.

Watching the sure way Steve moved around the kitchen, perfectly in sync with his two coworkers, was a sight to behold, especially the way the steam from the coffee machine wreathed the blond man like a modern-day Venus emerging from an ocean of coffee. 

Tony couldn't drag his attention away if he tried, Steve only seemed to take up more and more of his vision… 

A plate clinked by Tony’s elbow, jolting him out of his daydreams. He looked up in confusion at Steve, who was actually standing in front of him. “I didn't order carrot cake.”

“You looked like you needed it.” Steve smiled. The sarcasm from their regular encounters was gone, replaced by something that seemed almost shy. 

Tony stared, realised his mouth was hanging open, and belatedly began fishing his wallet out.

Steve waved him down. “Don't worry about it. It's on me.”

_ Wait, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, _ Tony thought, feeling panicked all of a sudden. Tony was supposed to be wooing him. Steve wasn't supposed to be the one doing stuff for him. 

“I can’t accept this.”

“You’ll change your mind once you try Sam’s carrot cake. It’s out of this world.” Steve insisted, pushing the plate towards him. “You’ve been hunched over your phone for the past four hours, it’s time for a break. You never take one any of the other times you come in and glare at a screen.”

“Heh. I guess I've come here a lot.” Tony said sheepishly, wondering if he really been that obvious.

“I noticed. It’s not everyday someone really takes to my coffee.” Steve said, looking so innocently, proudly pleased that Tony’s heart squeezed, and before he knew it, his traitorous mouth was spouting words.

“I’ve never had anything like it.” Tony’s hand twitched, trying to figure out how he could hide his cup without Steve assuming he wanted a refill. “You're- it's a new kind of special.”

Steve beamed. “Let me make one specially for you. You need a top-up anyway.”

“Great... can’t wait.” Tony replied, trying not to cry. Although, the sight of Steve’s perfect ass walking away, was enough to make up for the inevitable gastronomic agony.

\--

100

Tony walked into the shop to discover Steve was not manning the counter, a first in all of three months. He wavered in the doorway, wondering whether it would be ruder to immediately walk out, or order his coffee from Sam with disappointment so clearly radiating off him.

His decision was made for him a few moments later, because there was a ringing at the back door, and an uncharacteristically disheveled Steve stumbled through the counter. He tapped Sam on the shoulder and took his place at the front of house.

“Hey, Tony. Your usual today?”

“You know me so well.” Tony said, trying not to make his relief too obvious. His exchanges with Steve had become a fixture of his day, and he hadn’t known how much he’d looked forward till them until just now. It was a lot to take in. “Had me worried for a second. I've never seen you late before.”

Still looking a little frazzled, Steve looked up from where he was steaming milk. “Sorry about that, I’m not normally so unreliable. But my brother had a bad episode last night, I had to help him out-”

“You have a brother?” Tony tried to imagine two Steves. There had to be some kind of universal law against that amount of hotness. “Is he like you?”

“I mean, he's a vet too. Sometimes he has these bad days. Things set him off, the wrong word, the wrong sound-” Steve shook his head. “He’s a lot better now, but I try to be there for him as best I can.”

“You could’ve just stayed with him. I'm sure Sam would've understood a family emergency.” 

“I handled things.” Steve shook his head, then looked through his eyelashes with a wry smile. “Besides, I wouldn't want to miss my favorite customer.”

Tony leaned on the counter. “Now you're tearing me apart with sweetness.”

“I would never,” Steve said, with a short laugh. The blue of his eyes darkened. “And I'm not sweet, not all the time.”

...Now  _ that _ was a train of thought Tony would explore in further detail, when he was alone. 

_ God bless hot hipster baristas,  _ Tony thought as he exited the coffeeshop, throwing one last longing glance over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him.

\--

294

Things progressed faster after that. 

Steve’s smirks softened to smiles and they progressed to exchanging sentences - three on average, that was practically a conversation! - every time Tony dropped in for his daily cup. It was a nice smile, and Tony felt lucky he was able to see it more often. If seeing Steve was the highlight of his day before, now they had a whole Thing worked out.

Tony’s afternoon sojourns at Sam’s started to stretch into the night as they talked about everything, from art to architecture to technology (to his relief, Steve hadn't been kidding about Sam’s baking skills, which helped him keep down Steve’s bitter brews).

For the first time in months, Tony was finally able to form a more complete picture of the man behind the apron. 

Steve was an army vet, he'd been working at Sam’s for two years in between taking graphic design college courses, and all the art on the walls was his creations. His favorite team was the Dodgers, despite the fact that they hadn’t played for New York in decades. He liked old films and classic jazz, and his Brooklyn accent got stronger when he was excited.

“I cannot believe you’ve never watched a single Star Wars film!” Tony complained loudly as they snacked on ham-and-cheese bagels after Sam’s closed for the night. “But what’s more amazing is that you’ve managed remain spoiler-free this long.”

“I wasn’t actively avoiding them, you can spoil me if you want, I don’t care.” Steve chuckled and took a bite of his bagel. “I didn’t have time for that stuff after I completed my service. Too much on my mind.” 

Sensing the conversation was taking a more serious turn, Tony snapped himself out of daydreams of the myriad ways he wanted to spoil Steve. “Do you want to talk about it, or-?”

Tone sobering slightly, Steve continued. “I was in a bad place when I came back, didn’t have a plan, and I had my brother to look out for. Then Sam opened this place and was decent enough to offer me a job to help me get back on my feet.” Steve turned to Tony with a self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t think Sam would appreciate my barista skills, because only food experience I had was making coffee for the fellas in my unit. Not exactly New York hipster material.” his smile brightened. “You’re the only person other than my brother who actually likes it.”

Tony gave a pained smile.

Steve’s atrocious coffee-making skills were truly legendary. No matter what Tony ordered - americano, espresso, mocha - Steve would mess it up without fail. Even when Steve did everything right; from temperature to proportions to preparation (Tony had ogled the process in great detail, for scientific reasons, of course), it was as if he had a supernatural skill for bringing out the absolute worst flavor in every cup. Tony would have felt a little more impressed if his stomach didn’t feel like it was in a constant state of death for the past months.  

But Steve clearly took a lot of pride in his work. Tony could see it in the rapt attention as he brewed each cup, the way he greeted all the regulars by name, the way his eyes lit up every time Tony came in for his daily cup. All of his passion, all of his care went into his work, and Tony would protect that smile no matter what it took.

A few bad cups of coffee? Bring it on.

Steve leaned an arm on the table. He was wearing a teal workshirt today, the long sleeves rolled up appealingly to give a good view of finely muscled forearms. “I get that my coffee isn't for everyone. I'm pretty good at making other stuff too, you should try my hot chocolate…”

“Anyone who tells you to change should take a meat thermometer up the nose. I think you’re great the way you are.” 

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary. But thanks, Tony. That’s pretty swell of you to say.” Steve flushed, smiling as he ran a hand through his hair. The action sent the blond hairs at the base of his neck springing up into spikes, and Tony had the strongest urge to run his fingers over them to see if they were as soft as they looked.

Trying not to make it look like he was staring, Tony took a swig of his mocha, resolutely ignoring the way it burned down his throat. This wasn’t how he’d imagined swallowing Steve’s love juice, but for now it would have to do.

\--

339

After spending a late lunch at Sam’s (Steve had been wearing a cardigan today. A cardigan!), Tony had returned to the office to see the familiar figure of his intern crouched in front of the bike rack. 

“Hey, Pete, what are you- whoa! How did you let it get into this state?” Tony whistled. Peter’s bike had rusted itself to the bike rack, looking like it’d be impossible to remove without catching three strains of tetanus. 

“I didn't mean to! I've been too busy with finals and everything, I guess I forgot and left it here overnight- maybe a few nights. And it’s been raining a lot...” Peter looked at his bike sadly.

Tony stopped chastising him. “I’ll lend you some rust remover, and it’ll be good to go in a few hours.”

“I don't have a few hours, I'm kinda late for a thing. I had to be there… twenty minutes ago.”

“Hot date?” The teenager’s answering flush told him all he needed to know, and Tony smiled. “Where are you heading? I'll have Happy drop you off at the lucky girl or boys’ place in the Rolls-”

“Oh god, anything but that.” Peter said immediately, before trying to backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s okay. I don't want to trouble anyone. This is my mess, I’ll figure it out myself.” 

Tony turned his cup around in his hands (triple shot macchiato, the sheen of sweat on Steve’s neck had made him feel especially daring today) and considered how to get the teen to accept help. “Come on, kid, chillax a bit. Have some caffeine.” Tony held out his cup jokingly.

Tony didn’t expect the kid to take him up on it, but apparently Peter was more frazzled than he thought. Peter reached out a hand, already-frayed nerves making him jostle the cup. The dark liquid sloshed over the lip of the crappy paper cup, where it splattered over Peter’s bike.

The rust peeled back from the splashed area with a faint hissing noise.

Peter opened and closed his mouth. “What. Is that?”

“Uh. I got it from Sam’s.” Tony barely said the words before Peter shot him a dumbfounded stare.

“Everyone knows the coffee from Sam’s is undrinkable. I knew a guy who drank a shot at a party on a dare, he wound up in the ICU!” Peter’s eyes widened. “Nobody’s seen him since, I think he  _ died... _ ”

“Hm,” said Tony, thinking of all the cups he’d drunk over the past year and making a mental note to see his physician as soon as possible.

Peter took advantage of Tony rethinking all his life choices to began pouring the rest of the coffee over his bike. Beneath the stream of acrid bean juice, rust sloughed off the the metal, revealing its shiny surface once more.

Peter clutched the cup like it was liquid gold.

“Whoa, this is amazing, Mr Stark! Can I borrow this? I wanna test it for… stuff…”

“What do you mean ‘borrow’, you're not giving that back to me after you're done! Hey!” Tony yelled as Peter raced off. “Give me back my radioactive sludge!”

Knowing Peter was too far away to reply, Tony chuckled to himself. “Even the worst cup of coffee in the world is good for something.”

Beep. Tony caught the tell-tale bleeps of somebody ending a video recording, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see somebody lowering their phone.

He turned, suddenly worried. But he dismissed the thought from his mind. Being a public figure, meant a loss of privacy, and in any case he didn’t mind people sneaking the stealth selfie everything now and then.

And besides, he’d kept all his clothes on this time. It wasn’t like he’d said anything stupid.

\--

340

BILLIONAIRE TONY STARK CALLS LOCAL COFFEE BUSINESS THE WORST COFFEE IN NEW YORK - BugleFeed, Editor in Chief JJ Jameson

Tony‘s tablet fell from nerveless fingers with a thunk. “Fuck.” 

\--

348

Steve wasn't there the next day. Or the next. Or for the rest of the week. When Monday rolled around again, Tony once again felt the familiar stomach-dropping dismay at seeing Sam and Nat manning the counter.

“Did you guys talk to Steve? Do you know when he’s coming back?” Tony edged his way to the front of the line. “You know I didn’t mean it, right? I say tons of shit all the time, you shouldn’t believe any of it, just ask TMZ-“

“I’ve told you before, we’re not pissed at you.” said Sam exasperatedly, passing a tray of smoothies to a clutch of grouchy office workers. “But I will be if you don’t get your ass out of the way, I’m trying to run a business here.”

“You almost didn’t have a business because of me!”

“Yet here we remain, against all odds.” Sam replied dryly. 

“If anything, the article was good PR.” Natasha piped up from where she was skinning fruits. “We’ve had lots more people coming in. Seem to think that supporting us means they're sticking it to the rich asshole.”

“Fair enough,” Tony began fiddling with a coaster, worrying it to shreds in his hands. “Fucking up stuff is my best skill.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Your big mouth might’ve gotten them in the door, but it’s us who kept them here.” Nat fed a mango slice into the juicer, which devoured it with a whine. “It helps that we're actually good at making stuff other than shitty coffee.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“We heard you the first five thousand times,” Nat retorted, but not unkindly. She slid a cup over the roughened counter top. “Here. Take your fuel and get out.”

Nat’s americano smelled perfect, the aroma was rich and fragrant, expertly roasted. And yet- 

It wasn't what Tony wanted. It wasn’t Steve’s.

Tony pushed the cup back across the counter. “I can't accept this. It's too good, I don't deserve it. A person like me deserves the worst cup of coffee in the world.”

“You mean Steve’s.” Natasha flipped another piece of fruit into the juicer.

Tony twitched but forged on. “All I want to know is where Steve went. When will he be back? Is he coming back? Can you tell him I'm sorry I said his coffee sucks? Will you at least accept some compensation for-”

“Please stop leaving blank checks laying around the shop, they make cleaning up a real bitch. And they're starting to make me worried for you.” Sam rubbed his nose bridge tiredly, but there was a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes. “You can do something else, though.”

“Yes, anything!”

“When Steve gets back-”

“So he’s coming back?” Tony said excitedly.

“ _ When _ he gets back, you can make your apologies in person. Also,” repeated Sam, sounding like he was reaching the end of his patience. “I don't care where, I don’t care how, you and Steve get off your asses about each other. This dancing around each other bullshit is getting annoying.”

“What are you talking about? He hates me.”

Sam exchanged a look with Natasha, who rolled her eyes. “I told you there’s no help for this one.”

“Why are you looking at each other like that?”

“God you're an idiot.” Nat flicked a seed at Tony. “Take your coffee and get to your fancy office. We’re not going anywhere.”

Tony pouted and left.

\--

360

Two weeks passed. As Tony walked by Sam’s at midnight, his heart leaped at the sight of a large figure in a hoodie seated at their usual table.

“Oh thank god, I thought you up and left the country to, I dunno, go on a quest to find yourself because I’d insulted your entire life; I thought maybe you’d’ve gone to Brazil, Colombia, Indonesia, Ethiopia? I don’t know but I’d hope it wouldn’t be one of those culturally appropriative kind of quests- hey, you're not Steve!”

“No shit I ain't.” The stranger looked up, giving Tony a piercing look with his stormy grey eyes. “So. You're the guy Stevie won't stop talking about?”

There was no hiding it. “Tony.”

“Bucky. Steve’s brother.” The guy’s expression didn’t even change as he sized Tony up.

The guy’s hair was pulled back in a bun and his hand - prosthetic, Tony realised - was resting casually on the table. He had the look of a guy who was used to starting fights, and ending them in ways that Tony would prefer not to think about.

Tony cleared his throat. “Listen, if it was about that article-”

Bucky’s gaze grew even frostier.

“Okay okay, it was a shitty thing for me to say. I run my mouth a lot but it wasn’t my intention to- actually, you know what? I’m done making excuses.” Tony squared his shoulders. Things had already escalated to the point that Steve’s scary brother was for the shovel talk, except Bucky probably actually did have a shovel hidden in that coat of his. 

Tony continued. “Steve’s coffee is godawful. And speaking as somebody who may or may not have accidentally drunk jet fuel, I have a lot of experience with undrinkable fluids.” 

Bucky hadn’t made any sudden movements, so Tony took that as impetus to continue. “If there’s any fault here, it’s mine. I should’ve been upfront from the start, but I got so caught up in trying to woo him, that it seemed easier to avoid the subject. I know how important this work is to him and-” Tony’s hands twisted around themselves. “-I didn't want to hurt his feelings. So yeah. That’s what I got to say.” 

There. Tony had made his confession and if Bucky was about to murderize him, Tony would go to his grave with no more secrets. 

_ Well, just one.  _ Tony thought with a twinge.

Bucky reached into his winter coat - Tony tensed up - and pulled out a thermos. He unscrewed it, causing a familiar smell to waft out: Steve’s stomach-curdling coffee, and if the way Tony’s eyes watered told him anything, Bucky’s brew was twenty times more concentrated.  

“You’re right about one thing. Steve can’t make coffee to save his life.” Bucky took a long pull at his flask.  “I’m the only one who can drink this, but my insides are all messed up, so this is the only thing I can taste. You though… I hear you drank gallons of it for a year?” 

Unable to believe he was still alive, Tony squeaked. “Yeah?”

Bucky snorted. “Have to say, I’m impressed. You’re the only person I know- other than me of course- that managed to keep down more than a sip. Did you really chug a fresh cup the first time you met?”

“What can I say? I'm optimized for suffering.” Tony muttered.

Unexpectedly, Bucky broke into a grin, which softened the harshness of his face and now Tony could see some resemblance to Steve, even though they couldn’t have been blood-related. “Sassy, arent’cha? But you're alright. I can see why he likes you.” He took another pull at his thermos.

The sight made Tony's insides gave a queasy twitch. “I’ll leave you to your drink.”

He was almost through the door when Bucky spoke again. “Steve'll be back soon. Good luck.”

\--

365

The second Tony saw a flash of blond hair through the window, he was through the door in a flash, talking a mile a minute.

“I'm sorry I said your coffee sucks, I should've been honest from the beginning, but I didn’t want to- whoops, sorry-” Tony pushed past irritated regulars as he edged his way to the front of the line. “-I didn't want to upset you because you are most definitely the most amazing, hottest guy I’ve ever met and I didn’t want to mess things up, because ruining things is kinda my thing, you know?” Tony finished his spiel with an expectant look.

Steve’s stunned face was his only response. Everything around them was silent, and Tony belatedly realised that realised the whole cafe was staring at him. 

Despite this, words continued to pour out his mouth. “And honesty is a virtue, open communication and all that, but why say something if it’s just gonna cause hurt, right? Clearly, making weird coffee is your Thing, and asking you to change that would be tantamount to me asking you to change yourself for me, and that I could never do, which is why I tried to hide my real feelings about it, but as you know, they slipped out when I wasn’t paying attention so that part’s on me...” 

“Back up for a minute.” Steve carefully turned off the steamer he was using. “Can we continue this after my shift is done-”

“Oh no, you both settle this right now. I’m sick of both of you mooning around my shop when the other’s not around. Go outside and sort your shit out.” Sam said briskly, steering Steve away from the machine. Looking sheepish, Steve let himself be pushed along although he could have effortlessly resisted. 

Tony swallowed as Steve led them out the back of the shop. The second they stepped into the alley, he blurted. “I never expected those hacks at the Bugle to misquote me and make some clickbait article, I'm sorry that Sam and Nat got pulled into the mess, they didn’t deserve any of...”

“Tony, slow down. I got some things to say to you.”

Tony fell silent. This was it,  the moment he’d been dreading. Despite the ache in his heart, he was ready to face it head on.

Steve licked his lips, suddenly looking apprehensive but trying to push through it with determination. “One, I didn't stop working at the coffeeshop because your words made me sad. I took time off to keep an eye on Bucky. He was going through a bad time and I wanted to keep an eye on him. Besides, I’m a grown up, I know how to handle criticism.”

“Two,” he held up a finger, silencing Tony before he could go off onto another stream. “Sam and Nat were cool with it. They actually found it pretty funny.”

“Three,” Steve’s eyes softened. “You’ve been on my mind for year. Can I ask you out?”

Tony’s world seemed to shift, everything spinning around faster and faster, with Steve at its center. The air seemed fresher, the sunlight brighter, picking out the flecks of gold in Steve’s eyelashes, the faint scatter of freckles across his nose.

Finally finding his voice, Tony croaked out. “Is Darth Vader Luke’s father?”

Steve smiled.

\--

0

Tony was wakened by the movement of Steve climbing out of bed. “Ditching me on Christmas?”

“Don’t get up, I’m going to make us something.” Steve dropped a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Please don't tell me it's coffee. I love you, but I'm begging you, please don’t make me drink any more.” Tony complained, rolling over into the newly-vacant side of the bed.

“You know perfectly well that nobody forced you to drink all that coffee. You only have yourself to blame.”

Tony peeked over his shoulder. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve chuckled and the bed shifted as he stood up from it.

As Steve rustled around in the kitchen, Tony luxuriated under the covers, enjoying the feeling of being comfortably lazy. The sheets were still warm from Steve’s body heat, and saturated with his clean scent.

“Rise and shine,” Steve was holding out a mug of something that smelled like heaven and rainbows.

Tony accepted the mug, and after some curiosity, set it to his lips. The rich chocolate warmed him every inch from head to toe, making him feel like he was radiating warmth to fend off the frostiness of the morning.

He took a deeper sip, and oh, it was even better: he could fall forever into the velvety smoothness of the chocolate, the warm embrace of the creamy milk. Beneath it all he could detect a hint of peppermint, a kiss of freshness on his lips.

It was perfect.

“You've been holding out on me? Why are you selling coffees when you can make hot chocolate like this? You could make a fortune selling these.” The mere mention of Steve’s godawful coffee made Tony take another swig of chocolate to cleanse the memory from his brain.

Steve raised an amused eyebrow. “I have been, actually.” 

“Wha-?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but everyone comes to Sam’s for the hot chocolate. I’ve been wanting to make one for you for ages. But you kept ordering coffee, so I thought you were the only one other than Bucky who actually liked them…” 

“So you’re saying-” Tony took another gulp, “You mean I’ve been torturing myself for a year with awful coffee when I could've had this heaven-” he looked sadly at the empty mug. “My god, I'm an idiot.”

Steve chuckled, and reached out to thumb off a trace of chocolate from Tony’s lip. “Sure, but you're my idiot.” 

“You really do have the patience of a saint.”

“I'm no saint, but you knew that from last night.” Throwing him a smile under half-lowered lashes, Steve’s tongue darted out to lick the chocolate off his thumb. “But if you'd like another reminder, I'm happy to oblige.”

A grin wound its way across Tony’s face, and he climbed over to straddle Steve’s lap. 

**Author's Note:**

> EDITED 22 Jan 2019 for grammar and flipped some sections around for better flow.


End file.
